Turkish Delight
by Lemmie666
Summary: Lara goes chasing a new artefact deep in the Taurus Mountains. What will she discover in the windswept plateaus and peaks, that has hidden for so long?
1. The City in the Taurus

The Taurus Mountains, Anatolia, Turkey

The helicopter, a streak of silver against the dusty plain of the Taurus, sped on towards its destination.

Inside, Lady Lara Croft, Countess of Abingdon, checked her laptop computer. A digitalised map of the surrounding mountains shimmered on the LCD.

The pilot, wearing reflective sunglasses turned to her 'Are you sure this is where you want to be dropped.'

Lara nodded 'Absolutely. This is almost certainly where our site is.'

'That's right,' cut in Marika, who sat in the back of the helicopter, surrounded by photocopies and pencilled notes 'This is definitely where Kuytu Kale is supposed to be.'

Lara checked her watch 'That's if the one thousand year old Sarmatian silk painting I borrowed from the Georgian National Museum is reliable.'

'I'm pretty sure Lara.'

'As always, I value your expertise.'

The pilot turned the steering column, and the helicopter banked left over a dusty plateau, covered in scrubby bushes.

'Mind telling me what you're looking for?'

Lara looked sideways at Marika, who nodded 'Wrasse is an old friend of my father's Lara. We can trust him about this.'

Lara turned back to Wrasse 'Mr Wrasse, I must insist that you tell no-one about our discovery.'

Wrasse looked into her serious brown eyes, and saw behind them, that levity was not a word currently in her vocabulary.

'I promise.'

'Very well. Kuytu Kale is – or was – the stronghold of the Seljuk Turks in this part of Turkey. Supposedly concealed within the canyons and peaks in these parts, it has remained a mystery until this day.'

'Until you found this painting?'

'Indeed. And after a lengthy translation process, it lead us to the city's location.' She looked out of the window 'Which we should be approaching now I think.'

Wrasse brought the helicopter to a hover, and Lara unclipped her seatbelt and strode into the bay area at the back. Marika looked up as she came out, a young beautiful woman, with her hair in its quintessential plait and wearing khaki shorts and a green top. Her trusty sidearms hung in their holsters, and she was wearing hiking boots.

Lara took down her parachute, and tightened the straps over her arms. She came over to Marika, and gave her a hug.

'I hope you're not worried.'

'About you? Certainly not!'

Wrasse's voice came in from the cockpit. 'I'm ready to open the doors Lara!'

'Good. Tell me when it's safe to jump.'

A large sliding door opened to the hot air outside. Marika's papers fluttered in the gusts of wind.

'Okay, you're good to go.'

Lara waved goodbye to Marika, and leapt.

Lara fell through the heat haze towards the ground. The helicopters rotors roared as it gained height again. She reached round to her rucksack, felt for the toggle and yanked it.

With a creak and a rustle, the blue plastic parachute ripped out of the rucksack, and ballooned into the air. It filled, and, pulled by Lara's weight, floated down like a huge ultramarine mushroom.

Lara slipped off the rucksack and rolled to free herself from the billowing folds.

'Stylish,' said Marika over the headset.

'Thank you. Well,' said Lara, surveying the sheer cliffs that surrounded the plateau 'This is the place, but how do I get in?'

She skirted her way around a few dry bushes, white and desiccated in the sun.

'Maybe there's a door somewhere.'

'That would be a convenience too far. Most ancient civilisations have never taken my views into account by providing a simple door. Anyway, spikes and pitfalls are a lot more fun.' Lara reached the lip of a large round depression in the ground, and slid down into it. 'You haven't got an adventure until you have the spikes.'

Underneath her feet, hairline cracks spread out in the dry mud, criss-crossing the brown dirt with an ominous tone.

Lara, hearing the noise, turned.

'What…'

The cracks fell away as a gaping hole, expanding towards her –

Lara ran, as fast as was possible, trying to further the gap between her and the edge of the hole. The edge of the hollow neared, and she threw herself bodily, hands stretched out to grab the dry earth. She landed heavily, half in and half out of the hole…

Which appeared to be full of water…

Lara pulled herself up out of it, turned around and scanned the reservoir. Lined with stone, carved with elegant spouts that were now dry, the reservoir was full of deep green water. It was so dark that Lara couldn't see it's bottom. She stared down into the depths.

'Could you make it down?' crackled Marika's voice over the headset.

'We'll just have to see?'

'You should be careful. We don't want to have to report your sad death to Winston.'

Lara turned on the PLS that hung across her body on the black strap. 'Well, let's take a look around.'

She dived into the green water. Bubbles swirled around her, cool against her skin. She swam further, until she reached the close-fitting stones of the bottom of the reservoir. There was a tunnel, with a current creating a small rush of the debris that littered the floor. It tugged at her clothes, pulling at her insistently.

She let out a breath, and swam up to the surface. She broke through, gasping with relief. Sculling in the water, she floated on her back.

'There's a tunnel. A current, going deep inside the mountain.'

'Can you manage?'

'Seeing as I didn't bring any diving equipment, I suppose I'll have to.'

'You'd better come out the other side alive.'

'I hope so.'

'Okay. Good luck.'

Lara breathed deeply, and dived again. This time, as she neared the tunnel, she swam right in and with the current, letting it take her to it's natural destination. Carven stones flashed by, her PLS illuminating the tunnel.

In a burst of bubbles, she tumbled silently into a new tank. Lungs bursting, she struck out for the surface, and breathed in gratefully. Then, she looked around.

The tank was huge, at least as big as an Olympic swimming pool. Water gushed in from other tunnels, as she could see from the swirls and eddies on the surface. There was a low lip about thirty yards away, and she swam towards it. She hauled herself out, and stood, looking up at the walls of the chamber.

A huge doorway, with carved pillars and lintel, stood before her. Stairs ran up to a corridor, with impenetrable dark at the end of it.

'What's going on Lara?' Marika asked.

Lara took out a camera and fitted it to her headset. She tapped it once or twice. 'Are you getting a picture?'

'Hang on. Yeah, we have a visual. On you go.'

'In my own time,' Lara smiled.

She walked up the steps carefully. After years in the raiding business, she had learned to watch herself for traps.

But there were no spinning blades, no collapsing floors. Everything was quiet. The light glanced off the stones, the aura of the PLS gleaming softly in the darkness.

Up ahead was a door. Rotten and dusty, it creaked in a slight breeze from what it hid. Lara pulled out a gun, aimed at a few well chosen places. The door shuddered, and collapsed in a heap of broken pieces.

Lara shoved the last few splinters aside, and looked around.

What she saw was incredible. The door was at a vantage point, high above a long cave, down the centre of which, a processional road ran. It was lined with carven columns, decorated with spiralling patterns and letters. From the street ran alleys leading to tiers of houses and markets, shops and mansions. All quiet, and empty. The breeze that she had felt before stirred in the air again.

She looked up, and saw the crack running along the line of the street. Daylight poured in, lighting up the broken roofs and gutted walls of the buildings.

Lara walked quickly down the steps. There was too much here for her to explore on her own. It would take several teams of archeologists to excavate properly. And then only if they had a grant for several years. The stairs lead to the street. The columns towered over her. A huge long mansion took form out of the darkness. Lara paused on the threshold. A bat fluttered out, disturbed from it's rest.

'Strange,' she commented 'There are no bodies.'

'How morbid of you.'

'What I mean is – why is it so empty. There are no signs of anything – no war, no famine. There's nothing.'

She walked into the main chamber of the mansion. A long table stood, some plates and cups remained on it. A child's toy lay in the dust. The chairs were in order, the fireplace set with kindling.

This isn't right, she thought, it doesn't make sense.

She went back outside. Despite her many years in so many locations, and although the occult and the unexplained weren't unknown to her, she felt more than a little anxious.

She continued along the road, keeping her face up to the light. The rows of houses were coming to an end. She came to a huge open plaza, where, in the centre, a mosque stood. It stood in a pool of sunlight, its tall dome dominating her view.


	2. The Mosque in the Mountain

Lara stood hands on her hips, looking for a way in. After a few moments, she walked up the moss-covered steps. The doors were of beaten bronze, far too heavy to move. She sat in the portico, and regarded the tall columns with a studious air.

'Could you climb the pillars to the top?' asked Marika.

'I don't know. There's no way I can get a handhold.'

'Do you absolutely have to get in?'

'To get what I want, yes.'

Lara paced up and down by the doors, thinking, looking at the walls of the mosque. Then she saw it. A small gap, a handhold halfway up the wall. She jumped, and clasped the edge. She turned, her feet braced against the wall, and leapt to a moss clad column. She clung to the wet green, and scrambled up the stone pillar to the roof of the portico. Clasping the stone ledge, she hauled herself over the lip, and knelt on the cold stone.

The dome rose high away on her left, and to her right, the processional street stretched away along the cavern. Some bats, disturbed by her presence, flew out of a hole in the dome. The curved tiles stretched up to the roof of the cave, as far as she could see.

'Good work Lara.'

'Time to go in where the bats came out.'

Lara lit a flare. She still took a supply wherever she went, to light up holes and crevasses before she stepped into them. She threw it into the hole in the dome, and watched the bright arc of light fall to the floor.

It bounced off a column, and onto the flags.

Lara bent her knees, preparing herself for the fall. She leapt to the top of the column, trying to balance as she felt the pillar rock beneath her feet. It stabilised, and she let out a relieved breath.

Now to get down.

An explosion rocked the cavern. The dome shook, holes appearing letting in shafts of light which illuminated the room in blinding flashes. The pillar rocked, and, lazily, began to fall. Lara jumped and somersaulted into the air, landing on her feet and rolling. Pieces of masonry flew around her and clouds of dust covered the floor.

She got to her feet, and let the dust settle.

'What was that?' yelled Wrasse.

'I don't know…what do you see outside?'

'Hold on, I'm just coming over another hill…oh dear.'

Lara walked towards a large stone dais at the end of the hall.

'There are about three helicopters. Double rotor people carriers, black. There're guys with automatic rifles swarming around the crack. There's smoke coming from it…'

'The explosion…'

Lara came to the dais, and got down on one knee. She searched in the pieces of rubble. A frown crossed her face; she shoved aside another slab of stone, and then – she smiled. She took what she found, and placed it in her rucksack.

'I'm ready.'

She turned and jogged across the floor of the domed room, past the shattered columns illuminated in the shafts of light. The explosion had knocked the doors off their hinges. They lay on the portico, on the mossy stones.

Lara took up position by a heap of stones, pistols out, and waited. She didn't have to wait long.

The vanguard came, three big men with their guns out and their self-esteem even higher. It seemed a shame…

Lara stepped out from the stones, her arms by her sides holding her guns. With a click of safety catches, they all turned to her, looking a little triumphant.

'Hello boys,' smiled Lara 'You all look like exceptionally keen men.'

One of them attempted to make a joke 'That's not what we're paid for lady.'

'Well, you can either get back to your commander and tell him that this picnic spot is taken, or you can make it difficult. For both of us.'

'No way.'

'Dear me. The hard route then?'

He fired a burst over her head, tiles slid off the dome.

Lara's faced changed to one of sorrow.

'I'm sorry about this. You had a choice.'

She dived and rolled, coming up both guns blazing. The three men were dead before they knew where she was.

Lara looked at the twitching bodies. Then she picked up one of the rifles, emptied the clips from the others and put them in her pockets.

Now she was even more ready.


	3. Fight or Flight

Lara slipped stealthily towards the processional street. In the distance she saw several other gun wielding troops. There was a short flight of stairs leading to an upper street, with tattered stalls and shop fronts filled with stock that had lain there for centuries. She crouched behind a few barrels, checking the magazine and shooting back the safety catch.

Shots riddled the stonework in front of her. She sighed, leaned out and shot a man in the leg. And another in the chest.

A smoking grenade spun through the air, and bounced off the wall, coming to rest a few feet away. Lara dived and rolled, landing on her feet and running just as the explosion rocked the walls of the cavern. She fired the gun, and another man fell. She leapt a gap, slid down and jumped. Somersaulting over a gunman, she landed just in front off him. Scything his legs from under him, she smacked him in the face with her gun. Catching his, she rolled aside and came up firing; three more men died.

'Stop!'

Lara paused.

A circle of gunmen surrounded an older man, grey haired and dressed in khaki.

'Could we perhaps stop this troublesome charade? I would quite like to retain some of my entourage.'

Lara watched him carefully, still pointing the guns at the circle.

The man rubbed his forehead in vexation. '_Please_ Miss Croft.'

She ducked down behind two barrels.

'Tell me why you're here. How do you know me?' she called.

'I admit that we are here for the same reason as you. Isn't Kuytu Kale quite interesting? An undiscovered city, how exciting.' He yawned 'But to come to the point.'

'Which is?'

'The…item that is in the mosque. Do you have it?'

Lara took the safety off again.

'I didn't. What is your interest?'

'Purely financial. And I thoroughly disbelieve that you didn't find the artefact. Be aware that I have twenty-six automatic rifles trained on your position. You have no choice, I'm afraid.'

'Okay,' Lara got to her knees 'I'd like to be treated like a lady please.'

'I can assure you that is not an impossibility.'

'That's probably the best I can hope for,' Lara got onto her feet, bending her knees.

'It is.'

'I'm glad.'

Lara injected every ounce of upward force into her spring. Time seemed to slow down as she flipped backwards over the circle of incredulous men.

One, two, three men down. Six more fell to her rifle shots. She landed, and sprang up, kicking two men in the head, and shooting another in the chest.

She landed, and sighted on the rest. They stared at her, and dropped their weapons. The grey-haired man stared at her coldly.

'I apologise for these unfortunate circumstances,' said Lara brightly 'Perhaps when I tell you that I do not in fact have the desired object, as you can see, we can come to an arrangement.'

'Which arrangement is this?'

'I ask questions, and you answer them. Who are you working for?'

'I'm afraid this information is not available.'

She took off the safety again. 'Not the right answer.'

He watched the gun carefully.

'I'm dead if I tell you.'

'Well, you're dead if you don't tell me.'

He looked away.

She sighed. 'Give me an address then.'

'Calle Pallioni. In Venice.'

'And what is your name?'

'André Mouilliton.'

She looked at him closely. '_The_ André Mouilliton? Professor of History of the Sorbonne and Honorary Fellow at Oxford? What are you doing here?'

'Times are hard my dear. Research papers don't pay the bills any more.'

'So you turned to mercenary archaeology.'

'Indeed. I can see that you're doing well.'

'Thank you. Now I am going to ask your men to take out their ammunition.'

The gunmen clicked the magazines out and tossed them on the ground. 'Pick them up,' she told the man 'There's a well over there, toss them down.'

Mouilliton did so. Lara took out a small metal ball from her pack.

'This is something I got my techie friend to put together. It's a knock-out grenade. There shouldn't be any long term effects. Hopefully.'

She pressed a button, and threw it at the group, jumping back as she did so. There was a dull thud as the gas escaped the container. Within seconds, all the men were lying comatose on the floor.

'I hope not to see any of you again,' she said.

There were huge ropes hanging down from a huge crack in the ceiling. She climbed a crate, and made a leap for one of the ropes. She swung for a second, and then climbed hand over hand up to the crack.

The other helicopter pilots were leaning against their helicopters, smoking cigarettes. Lara jumped out of the crack, aiming both guns at the fuel tank of one of the helicopters.

'A wrong move, and I'll explode you to hell early.'

They all dropped their cigarettes and raised their hands.

'Now, in a few minutes my extraction will be along. Are we all comfortable with this?'

As she spoke, her silver helicopter sped out from behind a rocky outcrop.

'Ah, there they are now.'

The helicopter hovered above her, and a rope ladder unfurled down towards her. It came to rest just in front of her.

'Gentlemen, it's been a pleasure. If you're intelligent, perhaps you'll get out of this game as soon as you can.'

She slipped one arm over a rung, and put one booted foot on another.

'Adieu. To you. And you. And you.'

The helicopter rose slowly away, and Lara swung away on the ladder, into the bright Turkish afternoon.


	4. Travel Plans

Yandraka Hotel, Antalya, Turkey

Lara sat in a comfortable armchair, turning the bronze disc she had found round in her hands.

'What is it?' asked Wrasse.

'It seems to be a map of some kind. It's just a shame we don't have a reference point.'

Marika typed on her laptop. 'I've found Calle Pallioni. It's on the north side of Castello, near Santa Elena. It's a mainly warehouses and closed factories, but there is one old palazzo there. I expect that's where Monsieur Mouilliton's employer lives.'

Lara's hands traced the patterns in the disc. 'Excellent. I haven't been to Venice since I found the Dagger of Xian. It's time I visited again. We'll get a flight from here tomorrow.'

She gave the disc to Marika. 'Can you get anything from this?'

Marika looked carefully at the disc. 'It looks Turkish. But there's some Latin here. But it's ciphered. It'll take me a while to crack it.'

'Fine. Mr Wrasse, can you get our plane tickets for tomorrow?'

'Of course. I'll telephone the airport right now.'

'Hang on a second,' Marika snapped the laptop shut and looked at Lara 'I thought we were just in this to find Kuytu Kale. Are you telling me there is a different agenda?'

Lara sighed. 'I'm afraid so.'

'What are you looking for this time?'

'There was a rumour circulating about an ancient artefact located in a hidden city in Turkey – Kuytu Kale, that is. I was interested in seeing the city, but the artefact was my main motivation for visiting.'

'And the artefact is?'

'The staff of Aaron. Moses' brother? In Exodus?'

'I recognise the name, yes.'

'That's what I wanted to find.'

'And it wasn't there. Was it supposed to be?'

'Indeed. At least, that's what this told me,' Lara took out a scrap of cloth.

'What is it?'

'It was with that Sarmatian silk painting. The one from the Georgian National Museum.'

'Why didn't you tell me about it?'

Lara shrugged. 'I wanted to wait until it was absolutely necessary.'

Marika folded her arms. 'Fine. I must admit that I am curious. Even though it's not what I signed up for,' she sighed 'I'll come with you.'

'And you, Mr Wrasse?'

'Wouldn't miss it, Lady Croft.'

'Very well. Now, order those tickets please.'


	5. Preparations at the Danielli

Hotel Danieli, Venice, Italy

Lara had paid for a suite in the luxurious Danieli, arguably the best in Venice. It was lavishly decorated, with painted ceilings and Baroque furniture. An oil painting of one of Palladio's villas sat above her bed. Wrasse and Marika had been installed in similar suites, but now they sat together in Lara's room.

Lara was reading one of the pamphlets that had been left on her dressing table.

'Welcome to the beautiful Hotel Danieli, situated in historic Castello – the largest and busiest _sestiere_ of Venice. With wonderful access to the lagoon and Saint Mark's Square only a short step away, this is truly one of Venice's finest,' she read aloud.

'Well I have to say, I'd rather be holed up here if we're planning to break into a palazzo and extract information from it's owner,' said Marika, relaxing in her armchair.

Wrasse was looking out of the window, towards the islands of Guidecca and San Giorgio. The bright sunshine streamed through the room's huge pointed window.

Lara took out a street map which she had acquired at the tourist information stand.

'We're here, on the Riva degli Schiavoni. Calle Pallioni is right on the other side, near the Arsenale.'

'If we're going to start tonight, we'll have to allow about half an hour for travelling. We'll go by boat.'

Lara flipped the map closed 'Correction. You're going by boat; I'll take to the roofs. It's been a while since I had a nice moonlight jog over some terracotta tiles.'

'Are you sure?'

'Certainly. I've hired you a speedboat. There's a canal two streets away from Calle Pallioni. You can wait for me there. Marika, you can keep trying to translate that Latin. Wrasse, you can do surveillance. I'll wear the camera and the GPS.'

'When do we start?'

'We'll leave at seven. Castello's usually quite quiet compared to other parts of Venice. And we're outside the tourist season, this being January.'

'Right then. Shall we eat at La Terrazza tonight?'

'Make sure they've got Bollito Misto. A bottle of Pinot Grigio. 1994 Vintage please.'

'I'll phone up.'

Lara settled back, opened the street map and began to trace her route through Venice.


	6. Rivas and Rooftops

La Pieta, Venice, Italy

La Pieta was a church a little further up Riva degli Schiavoni. Lara had effected entry earlier, and now slipped out of a back door into a small garden with trees surrounded by crumbling apartments. Grabbing onto a drainpipe, she scaled the wall up to the gutter, then flipped over onto the tiles. The sun was setting, and the last few tourists were returning to their hotels. Gold and red streaks stained the clouds, sunlight glittering off the lagoons water.

She set off, going carefully in case she slid on the tiles. She jumped down onto a lower roof, then leapt across a calle. She landed on the lip of the roof on the other side.

'You be careful,' warned Marika.

'Really Marika, I have been doing this kind of work for a while. I know the risks,' said Lara as she jogged around the roof of a palazzo 'Stop worrying about me and concentrate on getting to Calle Pallioni in time.'

She leapt and swung on an electric cable, launching herself towards the next rooftop. Hopping down onto a small bridge in between two office buildings, she ran along until she could jump safely into a small decorative alcove set high in the wall. Just above, was a colonnaded loggia. Lara jumped, grabbed a marble handrail and pulled herself over.

'How far away am I?'

'Not too far. Calle Pallioni should be about three blocks away.'

A secretary carrying folders and wearing a tight suit jacket and skirt came out into the loggia. She stopped as she saw Lara, her mouth open.

'Who are you?' she asked in Italian.

'Don't mind me. Just passing through,' said Lara cheerfully as she jogged past 'Nice to have met you. _Arrivederci_.'

'Close shave there,' said Wrasse.

'Nonsense. She looked like a very sensible young woman.'

Lara came to the end of the loggia, and vaulted down onto a smaller building. The hum of a generator filled the air. There was a small fence separating the yard from the canal. Lara found a convenient drainpipe and scaled it.

She leapt across the roof, catching the edge with her right hand. She swung her left up, and pulled herself onto the gutter.

'Next block, am I right?'

'That's correct.'

The building she was on was a large apartment block, with a garden surrounded by the four walls. Some children were playing football below, while two women watched. One of the boys spotted her.

'Look!'

Lara waved cheerily, and ran on.

'You've just set a very bad example, you know that?'

'Children always end up climbing on roofs and trees. Better late than never.'

'Well, you're nearly there. The garden of the palazzo should be facing the canal.'

Lara nodded, and ran to the edge of the roof. The palazzo stood there, its tree-filled garden surrounded by an ornate fence, with a jetty for boats at its gate. She looked around carefully to make sure no one was watching, then dived into the canal.

She came up spitting water. 'Ugh! What do they chuck in here nowadays?'

The moon had risen, and now silver reflected off the wavelets of the canal, mixing with the sickly yellow of the electric lights. She climbed out onto the jetty.

She looked round as a boat's engine hummed off to her left, and recognised Marika and Wrasse. Marika waved.

Lara waved back, then turned to the gate. A heavy padlock secured it. She took out a silencer, screwed it onto one of her pistols, and shot it off. The gate swung open silently.

Lara stood in the entrance, listening. Then, she stepped forward.


	7. Venetian Villains

Palazzo Regimento, Calle Pallioni, Venice, Italy

The garden was overgrown, shrubs and trees sprawling all over each other. Ornamental flowerbeds were choked with weeds. A small pavilion of marble and granite was moss-covered and streaked with rain.

'Sometimes I am glad to have Winston. A garden should always complement a house, I feel. It's a pity that the owners here do not share my opinion.'

She walked on through the gardens, watching the house. The windows were shuttered, and no smoke came from the tall ornate chimneys. She found a door, and slipped into the musty darkness. The entrance hall was long and flagged in parquet, and several doors led off at intervals to other parts of the palazzo.

She heard a noise, and concealed herself carefully behind a suit of armour.

A door opened, and a servant came out, carrying a tray of silverware in one hand. As he passed the suit of armour, Lara swept out and jammed the butt of the pistol against his head.

'_Buonaserra, signor_,' she said smoothly 'Could you please take me to your employer. We have something to discuss.'

The servant nodded imperceptibly, and turned, Lara behind him, to enter the door he had just exited.

The room beyond was panelled in walnut, with an empty fireplace. A large dining table, swathed in Reticella lace, stood set for a meal. Dartington crystal decanters and wineglasses stood on the table, with a bottle of Chianti open. Two Italianate chairs were occupied by a man and a woman, who watched Lara and her new friend carefully. Provençal plates and Burano glass bowls were scattered over the table, holding fruit, nuts and cheeses. Evidently they had just finished dinner.

The man, about fifty and tall, cleared his throat 'Who is this person?'

'Lara Croft,' answered Lara 'At your service.' She thought about this statement. 'No, perhaps not quite at your service.'

The woman spoke up now. She was a good deal younger than the man, perhaps thirty, with dark eyes, tanned skin and far too much jewellery, Lara decided.

'What are you doing here? We'll call the _carabinieri_!'

Lara waved a pistol lazily 'I really don't think so. Commissario Tericella was a close friend of my father's. I'm sure he will remember me; I send him a Christmas card every year.'

The man decided to make an executive decision 'Lazló, could you perhaps escort my wife upstairs,' he turned to Lara 'You don't mind of course?'

'Certainly not. I doubt she could offer anything very much to the conversation.'

The woman gave her a dark look and was ushered out by the servant.

'Alone at last,' smiled Lara.

The man turned to her 'What do you want? Why are you here, disturbing my household?'

'I met up with a pal of yours in Turkey. He recommended I drop in.'

'Who? Mouilliton?'

'The same.'

The man cursed under his breath.

'Don't be too hard on him. I am very difficult to deal with. Now how about I ask some questions.'

The man spread his hands 'Ask away.'

Lara was surprised; most of the people she went up against were not usually so forthcoming.

'For a start, your name.'

'Antonio Escarelli.'

'What do you work as?'

'I'm an industrialist.'

'That tells me nothing.'

He sighed. 'Petrochemicals?'

'Oh…EsCorp?'

'That's right.'

'What's your vested interest in Aaron's staff? And Kuytu Kale?'

He blinked 'I beg your pardon?'

She frowned 'Now Antonio…may I call you Antonio? You've been very helpful so far, but being uncommunicative is not going to help.'

'Oh I know about Kuytu Kale. In fact,' he searched in his trouser pocket, producing a wallet 'I belong to this organisation.'

Lara took the card. 'The Artemis Foundation? But they're a division of UNESCO. You were attempting to preserve the city, not take from it?'

'EsCorp has long wanted to give something back to the community. We sent Mouilliton to Kuytu Kale to reconnoitre, to find out how feasible a prolonged archaeological investment would be. The Artemis Foundation asked me to do so.'

'But then why did Mouilliton take armed guards?'

Escarelli looked blank.

Lara frowned, thinking carefully 'Who…who recommended Mouilliton to you?'

'My wife found out about him. She paid his fare, his commission fee; everything. We are both very passionate about history and archaeology.'

'I think I'd better talk to your wife…' Lara strode to the door, and Escarelli followed her. They stopped as they heard a motor engine cough and whirr outside the palazzo.

Escarelli listened. 'That's…that's my boat! Someone is stealing my boat!'

They ran to the front of the palazzo. Lara wrenched open the huge carved doors, just as a wood and fibreglass speedboat shot past. Lara saw Escarelli's wife, and Lazló at the wheel.

'He's kidnapped my wife!' shouted Escarelli.

Wrasse and Marika cruised into sight, stopping at the canalside so fast that waves of water sluiced over the stone steps.

'Come on!' shouted Lara as she leapt into the back of the boat. Escarelli half fell down beside her, and Wrasse punched the engine. They rounded a corner and began to chase the other boat.


	8. Canal Chase

Wrasse gunned the engine as they shot through the narrow canals. Lara knelt up on the seats behind the driver, and took out a pistol. She aimed some shots at the retreating boat, but they fell short, splashing into the water. They turned suddenly, water spraying in a white plume into the air. Off they went down another canal, skipping over the little waves that rushed in from the lagoon.

'I think we can take a short cut,' Wrasse roared over his shoulder 'We can catch them in the lagoon.'

'Do it!' yelled Lara 'We can't lose them.'

Wrasse spun the wheel violently, and the boat cornered into a little side canal, so narrow that the boat could barely fit between the walls of the buildings on either side. Up ahead, a wooden notice with a skull and crossbones declared;

_Pericolo. Il canale ha chiuso._

'Oh hell!' shouted Lara.

The boat crashed through the notice, splinters flying everywhere. In front of them, they saw the reason why the canal had been closed: scaffolding was erected on either side, holding the crumbling brick and mortar together. The boat powered through it, sending steel bars and wooden boards spinning into the churning water.

Then, slowly, the walls began to collapse in on themselves.

Wrasse shifted the throttle, and the boat roared away as bricks tumbled into the foaming water, the walls tearing themselves away as they revealed the floors of the buildings inside.

At the end, on the left was a small concrete ramp, onto which the boat sped, trailing sparks. As it reached the end of the ramp, it launched into the air and did a perfect flip upside down, landing back into the water.

Everyone breathed out.

'Right,' said Lara brightly 'let's get on shall we.'

The other boat sped out from another canal, and turned heading out across the lagoon. They followed, dodging the odd vaporetto or other speedboat.

A foghorn blared across the lagoon. Lara turned to see a huge cruise ship bearing down on the two boats. The horn sounded again, impatiently.

The two speedboats turned, and sped along the side of the cruise ship, Lara letting off a few more shots. Tourists lined the side of the ship, watching in fascination as the boats careered off to the left. The other boat slalomed between the buoys and lights that marked out the route for the vaporettos to and from the other lagoon islands. Wrasse still followed, as they roared past the sleepy islands of Murano and Burano, until the reached the mist swathed island of Torcello. The fog was so thick, they could only follow the other boat by listening to its engine.

Eventually, Marika said 'Is that another engine?'

They listened as Wrasse piloted carefully through the mist. And yes, there was another engine – or rather two, higher pitched and humming.

'That's an aeroplane,' mused Wrasse.

The mist thinned out, and they could see the other boat – and just ahead of it, the dark shape of an aircraft, big and bulky with the cockpit and wings with a huge cargo bay slung underneath. It floated on the water, drifting a little with the waves.

The other boat was towed up a ramp, and Lazló and Mrs Escarelli got out. The boat was slipped back down into the water, and two men escorted the two into the plane.

Escarelli lunged forward 'We've got to go after her!' he gabbled in Italian 'They've got her prisoner.'

'Calm yourself Mr Escarelli,' said Lara, holstering her guns.

Escarelli turned to her, his face angry and red 'So it's "Mr Escarelli" now that you're not pointing a gun in my face! My _wife_ is in there!'

Lara looked at him, as Wrasse turned the boat back towards Venice. Behind them, the plane roared off into the sky, leaving Escarelli's boat adrift on the lagoon.

'Listen Escarelli, was your wife kicking and screaming? Was she making a run for it? Was she hitting and struggling with Lazló?' she took a breath 'No. She wasn't. This makes me think that this was pre-ordained.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'Your wife was complicit. She planned this,' Lara settled back on the low seat 'The question is; why? Has she any criminal connections?'

'Well…of course, she is from a Mafia family.'

Marika turned round 'You married a criminal's daughter? Why?'

'Italian businesses can hardly survive now without the Mafia's support. Berlusconi's government has been squeezing us for everything we have.'

'Which explains why she is so much younger than you. Do you love her?'

'I…I was attracted to her, certainly, but I think she was attracted to my money. And her father was considering expanding his business portfolio. He owns about forty percent of my company.'

'A marriage at gunpoint then?'

'To an extent, yes.'

He looked crestfallen. Lara felt a little stab of compassion for him.

'Well, let's get you back to our hotel; you can stay there tonight. Tomorrow morning, we shall have a talk about the staff of Aaron.'


	9. The Marciana Library

Hotel Danieli, Venice, Italy

Lara met Escarelli, Marika and Wrasse at breakfast. She had a bowl of muesli, deciding she had better make some concession to staying in shape, and watched as the others tucked into melted chocolate, sweet rolls and coffee. As they finished, Lara told them of her plan for the day.

'We're going to the Biblioteca Marciana. It's just a short step away from here, in St Mark's Square.'

'A library?' questioned Escarelli 'But shouldn't we be going after Elena…'

Elena was Escarelli's wife, Lara had discovered.

'I'm afraid our prime object here is the staff of Aaron. The head archivist, Giaccomo Luddigi, will help us. The Marciana Library is one of the great libraries of the world – surely it will have texts on a subject like this.'

So, after breakfast, they all walked along to St Mark's Square. They were admitted into the Marciana, where they stood in the Sala Sansovino, where the marble floors and decorated walls contained the footnotes of the centuries.

Presently, Signor Luddigi came out, a small wizened man who walked with a stick, he hobbled over and took Lara's hand, kissing it in the romantically polite way of all Italians.

'Miss Croft, how lovely to see you. It is indeed an honour to see you back in these beautiful halls.'

'Mine is the honour entirely,' replied Lara reverentially 'I hope you are well.'

'Ah, the odd ache or pain. My doctor tells me I am far too old to be doing my job – but these young people, what do they know?' he waved his hands expressively, and turned, leading them to other rooms.

'The city has been very generous with my budget,' he told them 'We've been able to restore many old texts – my predecessors would be pleased. I have laid out the manuscripts that my assistants and I found this morning – we have been working through the night since you called from the Danieli this morning.'

'I'm sorry to put you to so much trouble.'

'Pah! You young people, always sorry for something. It's no trouble at all; I know how important your work is. We must continue to rescue relics of the past and bring them out for all to see in our enlightened modern world,' He said the last words bitterly 'Perhaps they will teach us some lessons that we have forgotten.'

They walked up a flight of stairs to a corridor paved with tiles, with heavy carved doors on either side. Luddigi stopped at one door, took out a key, and unlocked it. Then he pushed the door inwards.

The room inside was an office. Several large easy chairs sat around a polished mahogany coffee table, and a desk with a tall straight-backed chair stood further away. On the desk stood piles of paper, vellum and parchment. Clocks hung around the walls, ticking, and potted plants made a jungle at the back of the room.

'These are all the manuscripts that had mentions of Aaron, Moses, Exodus – everything we could find we put in here,' said Luddigi proudly 'Now, I must insist that you wear gloves and masks while handling these – they are extremely old and valuable.'

Luddigi sat in his chair, pulling on gloves and tying a mask around his face. The others did the same, and carefully began the process of sifting through all the manuscripts for relevant information. Only, Wrasse, whose knowledge of Italian was basic, was exempt – he was delegated by Luddigi to the task of watering the potted plants, and later, getting coffee and tea from the small kitchen along the corridor.

Hours passed. Only the ticking of the clocks and rustle of paper made any noise. Occasionally, Marika and Lara would ask Escarelli or Luddigi to translate some particularly dense and convoluted passages. Wrasse meanwhile, sorted all the rejected manuscripts into piles ready for re-cataloguing, as instructed by Luddigi.

Finally, Lara said 'I think I've found something.'

Everyone listened to her carefully, as she translated the medieval Italian from a dusty cracked parchment.

'And when the crusaders returned from the Holy Land back to the blessed shores of Christian Europe, crowds of the populace of this most handsome city, Venice, came to meet the crusader ships. Among the knights bearing the colours of Venice, Sicily and Milan, were a contingent from the French king's army. And it was one of these who spoke to me (for I am well versed in French, German and English as well as my native language) to the effect that they had found a treasure in the Land of the Mohammad. To be exact, the staff of Moses' brother, Aaron. But, it did not stay in Venice; the very next week, the nobleman who had spoken to me, (the Count of Toulouse no less) took it with him back to France, to stay in his lands. However, news reached Venice that month of a rebel uprising in Toulouse, where the Cathar peasants, heretic witches and blasphemers with their Jewish compatriots, had risen against the good Duke, and stolen his wealth and all his lands. No-one knew what had happened to the staff. The next week, a French army of Béziers and Perpignan crushed the rebels, but the staff was lost forever. Here ends my account of the events.'

'Who wrote that?' enquired Luddigi.

'Manivolo Cassegni, a burgher of Venice, and cousin of the Doge.'

'Ah. Around the eleventh century?'

'Yes, anno domini 1205, just after the fourth crusade. This also ties in with the great Catholic persecution of the Cathar sect in that area, shortly afterwards.'

Luddigi clapped his hands together in excitement 'Well, well my dear, it seems you have found what you are looking for. _Bravissimo_!'

'So, to France?' asked Marika, looking at Lara.

'Certainly. And luckily, I know just where to look.'


	10. The Fissured Rock

Roquefixade, Languedoc, France 

Lara rested on a large rock that jutted from the side of the steep hill. The ruins of the château of Roquefixade lay above her, surrounded by rocky cliffs and icy grass. Snow had not fallen here, but on the surrounding mountains it lay thickly. The tiny village of Roquefixade lay below; it's few streets barely visible from this lofty height. The stony track which she had just climbed fell away before her.

'So this is a Cathar castle is it?' said Marika in her ear 'Is it really worth climbing the side of a snowy mountain to find the staff of Aaron? Can't you just come back to Toulouse?'

'It's all very well for you, sitting in that hotel,' said Lara cheerfully 'Be glad you're not here. Besides, compared to some of my work, this is a mere walk in the park.'

She drank heavily from her water bottle.

'Besides, look at the scenery.'

She got up from the rock, and re-adjusted her sweater. 'Ah well, onwards and upwards.'

The track began to level out, and soon Lara found herself at the entrance to what had once been a gatehouse. Beyond, was a long oval of walled ground.

'This looks like the Basse Cour; or the area where all the castle life went on,' said Lara 'Up there's where I want to be,' she pointed to an outcrop with other walls on top 'The château proper.'

She jogged through the silvered grass towards it. Up the stone steps, to the castle. She looked around at the icy, moss covered walls.

'Now what?' asked Marika 'No dungeons, no traps, no cellars, no turrets; it's really quite boring.'

'Not so,' Lara smiled and took out her binoculars 'You might not be able to see this, but thank goodness it's a good clear day.'

She adjusted the focus, and looked through the binoculars. After a little bit of scanning the surrounding scenery, she found what she was looking for.

'Aha. In the eye of Montségur indeed.'

'Pardon?'

Lara clipped the binoculars back onto her belt 'In the eye of Montségur, upon the fissured rock, most treasured artefact of the Cathars ye shall find therein. You know of course that Montségur was one of the most important Cathar citadels.'

'Yes. So?'

'From Roquefixade, or the 'fissured rock' you can see Montségur. And no doubt vice versa.'

'But where did you learn that phrase? In the eye of Montségur and so on?'

'It was on the parchment that I found in the Marciana library. You know I always keep a little bit back for myself.'

'Ah, yes, I forgot your methods.'

Wrasse's voice broke in 'But is the staff in fact at Roquefixade or Montségur?'

'Hang on, I'll scope it out the RAD mode on the binoculars.'

Lara looked around, but nothing seemed to stand out.

'Hmm. Puzzling.'

'Could you have mistranslated? I have a photocopy of the text here; would you like me to read it out?' said Marika.

'Please go ahead.'

'Nella vista di Montségur, sotto la roccia aperta in due, la maggior parte del manufatto più di valore del Cathars che lei troverà lí.'

Lara groaned.

'Oh Lara! That was a pretty basic mistake,' said Marika, laughing.

'I know. Damn.'

'What should it have been?' asked Wrasse.

'Sotto' means below, rather than 'su' which means upon,' said Lara, shame-faced 'I deserve to be hanged for that!'

She scanned the frost covered fields down in the valley. 'But I don't see anywhere that looks like a possible place for hiding such an important artefact.' She turned to go back down the steps of the castle.

'Wait a second!' said Wrasse 'Look south-south west, on that ridge over there. Isn't that a turret sticking up out of the forest?'

Lara trained her binoculars on where he told her; and yes, there it was, a small crenellated square building sticking up out of the white-dusted green, directly below one of the walls of the castle, on the other side of the valley.

Lara jogged down the stairs of the castle, out of the Basse-Cour and down the track. Snow had begun to fall, but the all-terrain motorcycle that she had rented earlier would make the journey to the other side of the valley much easier. She jumped on board, started the ignition, and accelerated out of the gate and across the fields towards the far ridge.

The motorcycle roared across the field through the swirling snow, occasionally bumping over concealed hillocks and mounds in the grassy earth. Lara held on determinedly, until she reached the other side of the valley. She parked the motorcycle beside the ruin of a gîte, and began to walked up the snow covered ridge. Autumn leaves and dry sticks crackled under her feet. The pine branches were already heavy with snow, and there was no sound except for the soft _flumpf _of some of the white powder falling to the ground.

Soon, she saw the turret through the gathering dusk. It had probably once been used as a look out post, as it commanded a powerful position looking down the valley. Now, it was moss covered, the stones cracked and holes riddled the walls.

Lara walked through the small building that adjoined it; probably a place for the guards stationed there to sleep and eat – and made her way to the tower. She climbed up the spiral staircase, taking care on the topmost ones which were slippery with ice.

The top of the tower was just a square of paving stones with a low crenulated wall surrounding it. The rusting fragments of brazier lay to one side.

'There's not very much here. Maybe I should leave,' she sighed 'This isn't turning up very many leads.'

A wind whipped up, blowing snow from the trees. Pieces of snow fell off the crenulations, revealing the mossy stone beneath. Lara caught sight of a marking on one of the stones, facing to the north. She walked over, but stopped, as a blackbird flew up to the wall, and perched upon the marking. It cocked its head at her, regarding her with a bright black eye, then swooped off, chirruping as it went.

Lara went over to the wall. There was a shape under there, and in the snow she ripped the moss off, breathed on the filmy ice to see what it was. Then she stood back. Faint and indistinct, centuries of rain and wind having weather the stone, but there it was.

'The Cross of Toulouse,' she breathed.

She extended her palm down onto it, and felt the centuries flood back. A sharp pain echoed around her head, and darkness flooded her vision.


	11. Anno 1210

La tour des Corbeaux, Roquefixade, Languedoc, anno domini 1210

Lara looked out of eyes that weren't hers. It was the same landscape, the same hills. She looked towards the castle on the mountain – but no, surely not! The castle was intact! Flags flew from the walls, smoke rose from the chimneys in the Basse-Cour; it simply was not possible!

It was winter, just as it had been when she left, but snow lay thick on the ground everywhere. She looked at her hands, covered in chain mail, her green tabard, the sword that swung by her side; she was a passenger in the mind of a man! A medieval man no less.

The village of Roquefixade was there also – not in quaint little streets, but rough huts surrounded by a high palisaded wall. The man that her consciousness resided in, looked round as one of his comrades came out onto the tower.

They spoke in an archaic language, medieval French mixed with Catalan; but Lara could understand.

'What is happening Marc? I understand his lordship at the castle has given us strict instructions to look out for an army coming up the valley. Well, we've been here five days, and no army, so I'm thinking of returning to the castle.'

'But…all that has happened over this last year – Simon de Montfort taking Carcassone and Béziers – they were razed to the ground Hubert! And all the Cathars massacred or burned!'

'The Crusaders won't manage another winter here Marc! They have too much ground to cover in these mountains – they are far from their strongholds, they will turn back. Another year, and the crusade will be over – and there will be nothing the Pope can do about it.'

'God send those rebels in Toulouse to hell! They started all this trouble! Now this persecution threatens to tear the whole country apart!'

Hubert punched Lara's man in the face; Lara felt the blow herself as Marc's head snapped back.

'How dare you! The Count was a wicked man! He promised the Cathars protection, but then had the Bishop of Toulouse denounce and burn six prominent Cathars who would not attend his daughter's wedding because their faith forbade them to! The rebellion was justified for this cause! If you are so weak in your faith, why don't you run to the Catholics with your tail between your legs!'

Marc steadied himself 'I apologise Hubert. I did not think about what I said…please, let us have some wine and then we can talk to the others about going back to the castle…'

But Hubert wasn't listening. He pointed over Marc's shoulder down the valley.

'Look! The crusaders march!'

Marc turned, and Lara looked out of his eyes upon the spectacle below them.

Rank upon rank of crusader foot soldiers marched, with a solid heavy tramp that echoed around the valley. They carried spears and swords, bows and crossbows, maces and halberds. The multi-coloured flags of dukes and counts and princes fluttered in the wind. In front of them, masses of priests in brown cloth robes walked, the clamour of their Latin prayers drifting up from the fields. Smoke rose from the incense they swung before them, and the strongest and most senior carried Catholic crosses on huge poles, making them dark and menacing against the bleak winter sun.

Behind, ranks of cavalry snorted and pranced as they trotted onwards, some mercenaries recruited from the hills and mountains, some proud chargers of the noblemen who had joined the fight. Catapults and ballistas rolled along after them, dragged by oxen and mules.

A massive army. An indomitable army. An impossible army. And as Marc stared, and Hubert began to shout orders, grey filled Lara's vision, and the image of the valley and the army began to recede, like a dream half imagined…


	12. Déjà vu

Roquefixade, Languedoc, France, Present Day

Lara fell backwards as she was jerked back into her own body. She skidded a little on the icy stones, and then knelt, massaging her temples. Her head throbbed with pain.

'Lara? What happened? You haven't been talking for the last five minutes!'

'You wouldn't believe it,' Lara muttered.

She shook her head, and stood up. Something dark caught her eye.

'Oh. Déjà vu.'

Below her, at the bottom of the ridge, men dressed in black and with motorcycles had just reached the tree line. They were carrying guns. Lara looked through her binoculars. Assault rifles, to be precise.

'And me without my pistols. That _is_ unlucky.'

She made for the staircase, and jogged out into the snow.

Marcus was not having a good day.

The snow was thick around the tower, and was still falling. The black stealth suits which he and his comrades were wearing kept the warmth in, but were sweaty inside.

He rode up to the others on his motorcycle, and took off his helmet.

'Marcus! Get yourself up that hill. Do a reconnaissance. Stat!' barked Leroy, the leader of the mercenary group.

Marcus sighed and started up the hill. Six inches of snow on a steep gradient were no joke. He went carefully, making sure he didn't slip.

He wondered about the woman that they were hunting. She must be pretty dangerous, if they needed all these weapons and men.

He staggered up past a huge pine tree, took a breath, and a heavy stick smashed into his face.

Lara caught his gun, kicked him in the stomach, and started off up to the top of the hill, leaving Marcus and his nose, which was heartily spitting blood all over the white snow.

Lara reached the top of the hill, and looked around her. There was shouting below her, and she suspected that her victim had been discovered, or staggered his way back down to his compatriots.

She scanned the ridge, and noticed a small hut. She ran towards it, holding her gun in both hands. The sign on the door, in French, mentioned something about ski resort clients only. She broke the lock off, and pushed open the door. Racks of skis and ski boots stood around the walls. She smiled, and took some down.

Marcus was being supported by two other mercenaries, Klaus and Guy, who were loudly berating him for being so weak. Marcus felt miserable. They were about fifty yards behind the rest of the group. Klaus and Guy dropped him by a handy log cabin, cursed at him, and walked off to join the others looking down the slope, wondering where the woman had gone.

Marcus heard a noise inside, and turned to the door, as a blur tore out of the doorway and down the slope, leaving two tracks behind.

'Good luck to her,' muttered Marcus, as the others noticed and started shouting.


	13. Catching A Train

Roquefixade Mountains, Languedoc, France

Lara sped through the powdery snow, slaloming in between the trees and leaping over logs and rocks. Hopefully she had left her pursuers behind.

A buzzing filled the air.

Perhaps not.

Two snowmobiles drew up on either side, shots flying in between them both. Lara ducked and skidded through the crossfire, avoiding trees and bushes, spraying snow in huge plumes of white dust.

Lara leapt over a rock, spinning round and shooting one of the drivers of the snowmobile. It swerved into a tree in a thick yellow explosion which flattened some pines. Lara landed, and sliced down the slope, looking left and right for some refuge from her attackers. The other snowmobile, knocked by a rock, slid onto one runner and toppled over. It hit another rock and flipped over, crushing those inside.

Up ahead, Lara saw a small radio station, with its tall pylon rising above the trees. There didn't seem to be anybody about.

She slewed to a stop, rolled over onto her back and slipped off the skis. There was a small vehicle garage to one side, and she kicked open the door.

Lara looked around the garage. There was a supplies truck sitting in one bay, and the other was empty. There was a bunch of keys hanging on a nail. Lara snatched them and opened the door of the truck; a Jeep.

She decided to leave her seatbelt off, for mobility. She revved the engine, reversed, and drove for the garage door. The door splintered, and Lara drove through, passing some astonished mercenaries who had just arrived. Lara waved and drove down the small frost covered road down the hill.

The mercenaries jumped on the bikes and sped after her. Lara watched the speedometer. The tank was only half full as well; she'd have to be decisive. She thought about the local area map she'd looked at before she left Toulouse. Then she remembered! She paused to look out of the window, and shot a mercenary off his bike.

Anyway…

There was a little town called Foix down the valley with a train station – a train station on a branch which led back to Toulouse!

'Fantastic!' she said, and spun the wheel. Below her, she could see some of the outlying farms of Foix, and made for them. Behind her, she heard a motorcycle screech and crash into a tree.

The truck careened through a stone wall, and skidded onto one of the little roads above Foix. A car horn blared out and a blue Ford skidded out of her way. Lara bounced in the seat and pushed the accelerator down hard. She drove down the road, swerving round another car that came out of another road to her right. She turned a corner and looked out onto the narrow valley which Foix stretched along, pretty houses and verdant gardens languidly spread out below her. She saw the train station too, and drove down the road towards a hairpin turn below.

Cars drove out of her way, up onto grass verges and into walls. Lara bit her lip. She hoped no one was seriously hurt.

The tires protested as she skidded round the corner, and she glimpsed the motorbikes that were still tailing her. She moved into a lower gear and drove off towards the long low station. She swerved into the car park, and drove into the wall of the station, in between two cars. There were police sirens blaring, but the motorbikes still came towards her.

Lara hopped out, slammed the door and leapt onto the truck, then vaulted onto the frosty roof of the station. She jogged across it, towards the tracks. A long train was just beginning to roll out of the station. She leapt onto roofed central island, and came level with the moving train. Leaping onto the train, she rolled across the roof, and grabbed the edge as the train gathered speed.

'Lara? Are you alright?' Marikas voice came in over the headset 'We lost you for a while back there.'

Lara pulled herself back up onto the train 'I'm fine Marika. I'll meet you in Toulouse.'

She sat cross-legged on the roof, and when the train stopped in the next town, hopped down, paid her fare, and rode back to Toulouse.


	14. Mexico Bound

Grand Hotel De l'Opera Toulouse, Toulouse, France

Lara sat with Wrasse, Marika and Escarelli in the hotels _cave_ restaurant. It was half past eight. Marika and Lara were huddled round a laptop, scrolling through website pages, Wrasse and Escarelli were making polite, reserved conversation.

Lara took a sip of her Bordeaux Reserve, and addressed the other two.

'Okay, Marika and I have hit upon something.' She spun the laptop around to show them.

'We know now that the staff isn't in France any more. After the Albigensian Crusade against the Cathars, the staff was found by a Spanish count and presented to the King of Aragon. It stayed in Saragossa until 1526, in the Catedral Del Salvador's crypt.'

'And then?'

'There is a mention of it going to Mexico. The Papal States wanted the locals to be converted to Catholicism, and they took a suitably holy relic to help. It was placed in the new cathedral in Mexico City, which was formally the Aztec capital of Tenochitlan.'

'So it's still there?'

'Well, we'll soon find out,' Lara smiled.

'Drink up gentlemen. Tomorrow we catch a plane to Méjico!'


	15. Discoveries

Juarez International Airport, Mexico City, Mexico 

Lara, Marika, Wrasse and Escarelli strode into the Arrivals hall, carrying their cases. They walked through the rooms in formation, and out of the glass doors at the other end.

Wrasse and Escarelli split up to one taxi, and Lara and Marika to another.

'The Imperial Reforma Hotel please,' Lara told their driver in Spanish. He nodded, and the taxis moved off together. Travelling down the polluted and traffic-choked streets of the capital, Lara and Marika looked out of the windows, watching the vibrant, colourful everyday life of the city go by.

Eventually they arrived at the Imperial Reforma, a snowy-white building in the centre of town. Escarelli and Wrasse rejoined them at reception.

Lara opened the door to her room, and unpacked her clothes, folding them carefully into the drawers of her dresser. She placed her laptop, and the suitcase that contained her equipment on the desk, and went through the sliding doors to Marika's room.

Marika sat on her bed, typing busily. Her cases lay on the floor, untouched.

Lara settled herself on the bedclothes, looking over Marika's shoulder 'What's this?'

'I've been doing some research on the Cathedral here in Mexico City. Do you think the staff will still be there?'

'I hope so. Why wouldn't it be?'

Marika opened a webpage.

'The construction of the cathedral started in 1573. But you said the staff went out to Mexico in 1526.'

'I suppose we'll just have to see won't we? Of course, there is no point breaking into the cathedral. We'll just ask for it nicely.'

Later, Lara and the others got out of a cab in the city's Zocalo, where the cathedral stood, its brown stone steeples and windows standing out harshly against the fading sunlight.

They walked quickly to a set of doors, and Lara pushed one open. A priest came hurrying towards them.

'I am sorry, the cathedral is closed,' he said to them in Spanish 'We must get ready for tomorrow's service.'

Lara smiled 'I apologise, but this is of utmost importance. We are trying to locate an artifact that was once here; the Staff of Aaron? We believe it was taken here in 1526, but we don't know anything further.'

The priest looked curiously at them 'Well…I can show you something perhaps – this way. I will take you to our library here. All the important events in the cathedrals history are stored here – perhaps we can help you.'

They followed him, walking through the cathedral. Light spilled from arched windows among the white stone columns; sculpted angels looked down demurely from their posts, and the smells of incense and paper wafted through the echoing church.

The priest led them to a series of anterooms, where priests were cleaning or sorting Bibles and prayer books. At last, they reached the library, a small room with bookcases around the walls, old tomes bound in leather and decorated with gold and silver.

The priest took down what must have been the oldest one; its cover was dusty and cracked. He pulled on a pair of gloves and used tweezers to turn the pages. Finally he produced a pair of spectacles, and scanned the column of crabby, scribbled Spanish.

'Ah…yes, the Staff was brought here, and kept in the church that was built upon this spot. But, it was soon taken to a new sight to the north. Hmmm…Tlalocaxa – I think that would be near San Luis Potosi. Do you know it?'

'I think so,' Lara frowned in concentration 'Yes, Tlalocaxa was a city rivaling Tenochitlan in splendour, and it fell to the Spanish around 1550. The ruins have never been found.'

'Well, that's where I think the staff will be,' said the priest, gently closing the book 'And if you don't mind, I have much to do before I go to say my prayers tonight. Good luck to you, and God bless.'


	16. The Sacred Gate

La Puerta Sagrada, San Luis Potosi, Mexico 

The hired jeep rolled up in the zocalo of the village. La Puerta Sagrada was a small town in a valley about twenty miles north of the city of San Luis Potosi. The concrete and earth brick houses stood shabbily around, soaking up the winter sun. Chickens scuttled around, pecking at various objects and children watched wide-eyed, at the four people in the jeep.

A small woman hurried up to them.

'Senorita Croft?'

'Yes,' returned Lara 'You got our telephone call?'

'Indeed,' the woman said 'We have a guide waiting for you at the town hall.'

Wrasse was taking rucksacks and other pieces of equipment out of the back of the jeep. Escarelli was looking around nervously; he was unshaven and tired-looking. Marika was bright, taking out her laptop and notes, wearing her shorts and a bright shirt.

They were lead to the town hall, which was practically empty of people. Escarelli flopped into a wooden swivel chair, and Marika sat next to him, opening her laptop and spreading her notes out on the table.

The woman introduced Lara to the guide. 'This is Senor Fernando y Azucena. He knows the mountains and forests around here like his sombrero,' she smiled, watching for a reaction.

Lara smiled back 'I will be happy for you to accompany us.'

Senor Azucena nodded 'It is my pleasure,' he said quietly.

'Well, Mr Wrasse and I will be going with you. We are looking for the city of Tlalocaxa, up higher in the valley? It's not a problem is it?' she enquired.

'No, no certainly not,' said Azucena. He was a tall man, dressed in canvas trousers, a grey t-shirt and hill-walking boots. A woolly bobble hat sat on his head, and he carried his own rucksack and had a walking stick. His large moustache was tinged with grey.

'Well, that is wonderful,' smiled Lara 'We would like to make a start immediately.'

'Don't worry about us,' said Marika 'We'll just be watching your progress and taking notes.'

Lara holstered her pistols, and strapped on a rucksack. Inside, were ropes, ice picks, a medical kit, some food and a compass. She clipped a headset behind her ear and put on her sunglasses. She was wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, with a waistcoat covered in pockets on top. She wore long laced boots.

'Goodbye you two,' she said cheerily. Marika and Escarelli waved as the other three walked out of the town hall, with the woman following them.

'Good luck senorita. I hope you find Tlalocaxa.'

'Goodbye, and thank you for your help.'

Lara got into the drivers seat of the jeep, and Azucena got in beside her. Wrasse heaved his rucksack in the back, and sat down. They waved to the woman as they drove out of the town. Lara turned out onto a dirt road that lead up above the town, and then wound through the grasslands and scrubby trees. They threw up clouds of dust as they passed.

After about five minutes, they reached a small cliff. A rocky path ran up through rough boulders and up to a huge door, with a carven lintel and doorposts. Vivid images of snakes and birds covered them, and the shape of a skull was sculpted on the door. The three got out of the car, and Lara took out the ignition key, slipping it into a waistcoat pocket. Wrasse slid the roof over the jeep, and they started up the path.

They stood before the door, looking up at the carvings. Lara ran her gloved fingers over the stone. She turned to Azucena.

'Do you know how to open this?'

Azucena looked at the door. 'The Sacred Gate,' he murmured 'This is what gives the village down there its name. It is the entrance to Tlalocaxa. But I do not know how it opens – by some ancient magic, I would guess.'

Wrasse snorted derisively, but Lara shot him a look. 'Wrasse, do not discount what our friend calls magic. I have encountered enough in my career to know a little of the supernatural. More than a little, in fact,' she turned back to Azucena 'What would you suggest?'

'A word, a gesture, a hidden stone lever perhaps. It could be anything.'

Lara looked at the door. Her headset crackled.

'Lara? Can you hear me?'

'I can hear you Marika. Go ahead.'

'I was looking at that disc you found. In Kuytu Kale, remember?'

'Oh yes. I asked you to decipher it didn't I?'

'I just finished. The Turkish just tells the story of the city – it's interesting, but not very relevant – but the Latin part of the text makes no sense at all.'

'What does it say?'

'For in the light of gods, there lies that most foul aspect of man, the torment of his fellows for his own ends.'

Lara looked thoughtful 'It must be there for a reason. I'll try saying it here,' she said, mentally translated the sentence into Spanish, and said it aloud.

Nothing happened.

'Senor Azucena,' said Lara, turning to him 'do you speak Nahuatl?'

'What's –' interrupted Wrasse, but Azucena overrode him 'Nahuatl, the language of the Aztecs. Certainly. Would you like me to repeat the sentence?'

'If you would, please.'

Azucena paused, and then spoke a long stream of words, which Wrasse and Lara listened to carefully. He finished, and turned to them.

Silence crowded all around them. Wrasse looked unimpressed.

'Nothing's happening.'

'Listen,' said Lara 'The birds have stopped singing. There is no noise.'

They turned back to the door.

Slowly, ominously, the door began to split down the middle, until a thin ribbon of light showed through the crack. It creaked, and the doors swung inwards, to show a cracked and weeded path weaving up a narrow ravine, surrounded by trees and bushes.

Lara breathed 'Thank you Senor. If we may proceed. Shall we?'

They stepped through the doorway, Lara in front, the two men following.


	17. The Valley of Ashes

The Valley of Tlalocaxa, San Luis Potosi, Mexico

Lara, Wrasse and Azucena walked on the cobbled path, up through the steaming gulley, through the jungle and undergrowth that spilled over the path. Hummingbirds and butterflies flitted between flowers, a raccoon shuffled away quickly as they approached. The path quickly gave way to forest, and soon they were trekking through undergrowth and bushes. Ferns waved and insects buzzed through the humid canopy.

Soon, they heard the sound of rushing water. They walked further and reached a waterfall of a small river as it rushed over rocks and boulders in a cloud of spray and foam. Small fish darted around the moss covered stones. They waded through, the water sloshing around their insulated boots and soaking into their clothes. The rainforest soon re-appeared, and the path also came back as a trail of stones winding through the forest.

The trail sloped steeply up, and they moved out of the tree line higher up into the valley. Here there was a large marker, the moss covering the ancient pictographs. Azucena picked some of it off and tried to read them.

'I am one of the few in this area who can read Aztec glyphs,' he said by way of explanation 'Tlalocaxa should be only a few kilometres away.'

There are canyons and ravines all along the trail, and wild animals guard the ruins. Besides,' he said, looking up at the sky 'The weather is worsening. Look at those stormclouds.'

Huge grey clouds rolled in from the surrounding mountains. The promise of rain hung in the air, a tang of electricity and metal that stayed in the nostrils.

Lara looked unconcerned 'I have never abandoned an expedition because of bad weather before, Senor. I'm afraid we have no option but to continue.'

Azucena raised an eyebrow, but Lara merely gazed at him between the eyes. He lowered his gaze, suitably chastened.

They walked on, and a light drizzle began to fall, dampening their clothes. They stopped at a gorge which slashed across the path like an ugly scar, rocks and weeds gathering in the depths. Lara leapt over it, skidding on the pebbles on the other side. She looked back at the others 'It really isn't that far. You'll both make it easily. Just jump.'

Azucena and Wrasse both jumped it, landing clumsily. The rain beat down on the stones fiercely, making a rattling tattoo on the dry earth.

Wrasse shook himself, and smiled at Lara 'Are we continuing the-'

A blur of brown fur and claws hurtled past and cannoned into him. Lara had her pistols out in a flash, and had them trained on the cougar that had attacked. It sprang off Wrasse, who lay, claw marks etched across his t-shirt in bright lines of blood. A bolt of lightning raked through the grey sky, illuminating the scene for a fraction of a second. Azucena stood, tensed, ready to dive out of the way should it come for him. The cougar spun round and snarled at Lara. She let off a shot above its head, meaning to scare it off, but it roared again and flexed its powerful muscles. Suddenly it launched at her in flash, and she brought up her gun and pressed the trigger…

A clap of thunder sounded, merging with the shot of the gun and dying yowl of the cat as it recoiled in mid-air. It panted as it hit the ground, thrashed around with its flailing limbs, and died, as lightning cracked again overhead.

Lara and Azucena went over to Wrasse. Azucena ran a hand over Wrasse's cuts 'They are not serious; you are lucky, the cougar just scratched you.'

'It's my ankle,' Wrasse gasped 'When it landed on me, I think it snapped. I can't move it.'

Azucena turned to Lara 'Can't you see that we must turn back? Your friend is hurt and the storm is getting worse. To go any further would be madness!'

The rain beat down as Lara gathered her thoughts 'I'll go on. We'll ask for a team or a helicopter to come up her, and collect you. You stay here with Wrasse. I can look after myself.'

Azucena looked furious, but he could see that Lara was more than capable. He began gathering branches from the scrubby trees to make a shelter against the pouring rain. Lara knelt down next to Wrasse 'Will you be okay here with him? Marika should be checking up on us in about five minutes.'

He smiled gratefully 'I'll be fine. You be careful, it looks like the storm will be getting more violent.'

'Don't worry, I'll be back to sign your cast.'

He laughed, gave her a quick hug and then looked to his radio headset, tuning it to the correct frequency. Lara walked over to where Azucena was cutting branches with a knife.

'I am sorry to deprive you of a chance to see Tlacocaxa,' she said quietly.

He seemed not to hear her over the driving rain, but then he turned round, his arms full of freshly cut branches 'I am in your employ; I am bound to your instruction. It is no problem.'

Although his face was open and relaxed, his voice was cold and harsh. She nodded.

'I'll see you back in Puerta Sagrada.'

She waved to Wrasse, and started up the track.

Azucena watched her go, as Wrasse began talking over his headset. Then, he turned away.

Lara walked up the track. Occasionally, she had to jump cracks in the earth, or ford small streams, but otherwise, only the rain bothered her. Some wolves had paused in their tracks to stare at her, but she had frightened them away with a few pistol shots and they had moved off.

Soon, she began to notice the outline of houses and other buildings; the foundations all that was visible among a jumble of weeds and mosses. Pots and pieces of stonework lay half hidden in the green carpet that covered them. Rain slid over the weathered stone, and thunder rolled overhead. Flashes of lightening arced between the storm clouds.

The headset crackled. Marikas voice came over, buzzing with static.

'We just radioed Wrasse, Lara. Are you going to be okay?'

'I'll be fine. I've found some ruins of the city already, although nothing that is particularly interesting.'

'Well, we've sent for a helicopter to pick him up and take him to a hospital in San Luis. We'll stay in the village until you come back.'

'Fine. I'll see you there. Bye.'

Marika disconnected the call, and Lara jogged on.

Ahead, she saw huge stone walls, carved with leering faces and demons. The wooden gates that had once stood firm there were now just splinters in the mud that was quickly forming from the rain and the dust on the path. Inside, the path widened out between the two cliff walls.

She stood for a minute, at the top of a grand staircase carved from the rock of the valley. Below, the ruins of temples and palaces stretched out in ceremonial streets; the hidden city, concealed in a valley. How it had not been found before now, she could not guess.

She began to walk down the steps, the rain bouncing off the stone carvings and forming puddles on the steps. She could see some wolves prowling among the shells of the buildings, and kept her right hand on a pistol.

However, the wolves scattered when she reached the bottom of the steps. Spooked by the storm, she guessed. She took a moment to look around her. She was standing in the largest of the streets that ran in a grid across the valley. Two ruined temples reared up, their pyramidal shapes and steep steps pointing into the sky. Around her, other buildings stood, with collapsed roofs and shattered doorways. More devastation. It seemed that wherever the staff was taken, it brought desolation with it. She took out her binoculars and scanned the cloudy horizon.

She sighted on a collection of buildings, contained in a series of walls and towers. Those weren't of Aztec design. She started towards it, the thunder booming around the stone walls of the city.

After about ten minutes of solid walking, she reached it. It was a fort, with a command post, stables and barracks, all in disrepair. The thatch and wooden buildings had all been damaged by fire, for they were smoke-blackened and ash lay scattered in piles everywhere. The wind swept it up and it whipped around her, lying in new piles or floating away into the maelstrom above.

There were several things scattered in the dirt – saddles, swords, long rifles covered in mother of pearl and carved wood. There was a small courtyard behind the buildings, and there, hidden behind an old smithy, was a chapel.

It stood, small and squat in comparison to the pyramid temples behind her. A bell hung on an axle above, verdigried and missing its clapper. She stood in front of the doors, and then pushed them open.

A cold wind greeted her as she stepped inside. The church was bare apart from some bare pews, a few mouldering bibles and a crucifix, hanging at an angle on one wall. She stepped over the black and white tiles towards it, chilled by the quiet and emptiness of this place. Lightning cracked outside the chapel, flashing harsh white light around the place. She knelt by the crucifix, looking through the heaps of rubbish that lay on the dusty floor. She picked up a scrap of parchment, and looked at the flowing script on it. Spanish, she assumed. She peered closer, and then the darkness closed over her again.


	18. The Arrival of the Staff

Fuerte Velasquez, Tlalocaxa, San Luis Potosi, New Spain, anno domini 1552

Lara opened her eyes. The same thing had happened again! Only this time she gazed from the top of the falls of the fort – not ruined, but clean and newly constructed. Spanish soldiers in gleaming cuirasses and helmets stood along the walls, holding pikes and rifles. The sun rose high over the city of Tlacocaxa, where people thronged the streets. Some buildings had been built in the Spanish style, while others were in the midst of construction. Crews swarmed over the twin temples, demolishing them and carting the stone to use in new structures.

'Eh, Alonso,' said the guard next to her.

Alonso's head, with Lara riding as a passenger inside turned to him.

'What is it Rodrigo? You see a new Native whore you want to poke?'

'Silence your tongue, bastard. Look, there! The contingent from Mejico has arrived. They carry a relic from Spain! The staff of Aaron, brought to Mexico when Cortez defeated those curs thirty years ago! And, now, they bring it here to convert these peasant heretics!'

A contingent of priests, wearing rough brown robes, carried a large palanquin between them. The light glittered from the golden fixings and intricate metalwork which covered it. They murmured in Latin as they swung incense before them. The smoke curled up above the road, perfuming the air strongly and sweetly.

'Why do we need the relic?' said Alonso 'Won't these filthy curs just accept our Lord? If we break their spirits with mining for their gold and their silver, they will fall on their knees and beg for baptism.'

'You don't know their ways. They have accursed magic, the like that no one has seen in the old world. They will need proof of God's superiority.'

Lightning crackled on the far side of the valley as the group of priests passed through the gate into the fort. Alonso and Rodrigo looked up at the massing dark clouds.

'Filthy weather these heathens have,' spat Rodrigo.

And then Lara saw the grey cross her vision, and a sharp pain echoed around her head, as she began to come back…

…back to the present.


	19. Betrayal

City of Tlalocaxa, San Luis Potosi, Mexico, Present Day

Lara crouched over the crucifix, her head pounding. She was sure that all this forced regression couldn't be doing her any good. She had to get out of this forgotten chapel, before…

A safety catch clicked.

Lara froze.

A voice said calmly 'Ah, I see you have recovered. Now we can have a pleasant discussion.'

She recognised the tone and the gravelly accent 'Azucena? What are you doing here? Where's Wrasse…'

'Please do not concern yourself with him Miss Croft. What I am here for is information – and your disposal.'

'Disposal? That's some kind of criminal jargon, I think. Dear me, who have you been associating with of late?' said Lara, icily.

'That is none of your business. Or perhaps it is, seeing as my employers have ordered it. Your disposal, that is.'

'And who are they?'

'It does not matter. Soon, you won't have any room in your pretty head for questions.'

'That's as may be. Information, you said?'

'My employers are anxious to learn where the next location of the staff is. What is your guess?'

'I…I really don't know. Anyway, I only play nicely when people obey the rules.'

'Unfortunately for you my employers don't have time for rulebooks. Ah well,' he cocked the gun 'This _is_ a pity…'

'Wait!' she said, turning her head 'I found this,' she held up the scrap of parchment.

'I'm waiting.'

Lara looked at the fragment 'Now the city is besieged, and the storm has struck. Yet the natives seem not afraid, calm and resolute. They know what awaits, when we do not! Yet in the fires of hell, they shall burn, for their wicked gods and their heathen ways, in the sight of the Lord…'

'Well, that didn't help much. Evidently the parish priest was rambling. Goodbye, senorita Croft.'

Lara snatched the crucifix down from the wall. 'There is some Nahuatl carved into the back here. Maybe you can translate it?'

He lowered the gun.

'It's too dark in here. I'll read it outside. But you can go first.'

Lara walked past him, out into the courtyard. The air tasted of electricity and smoke, as the rain poured down onto the ancient buildings. Several small fires still smoked, raising columns of grey into the angry sky.

Azucena motioned her to sit down on an earth step, next to the chapel wall. He kept one of his guns trained on her, holding the cross up. His brow creased a little as he struggled to read the crude carving.

'The…white men have retreated to the mountains, but…the wolves have followed. We…sheltered here, to rest before the gods take us. Some may yet have retreated to the pyramid of Tlaloc, to pray for divine mercy. They took with them the Spanish stick...while we await the judgement of the gods.'

Azucena smiled very slightly, and turned to look over his shoulder at the squat form of the pyramid. A flash of lightning illuminated it, and thunder rolled again.

'It looks as if I will be extending my tour,' he grinned 'I've always thought about a little tomb raiding – your specialty, I understand.'

'It's a small, yet developed market. How about telling me about your employers then, seeing as you are going to shoot me anyway.'

'You've been very co-operative. Very well, I believe I am ahead of schedule. What would you like to know?'

'Signor Escarelli's wife – what part has she in all of this?'

'Elena Escarelli is the daughter of Don Carribadini, a Mafioso leader based in Genoa. She is a graduate from Florence University, with a Doctorate in Ancient History. She has since then worked tirelessly to protect ancient sites all over the world, until she married Antonio Escarelli. She then convinced him to join the Artemis Foundation, and since then has occupied an esteemed position as one of the Foundation's directors.'

'So why is she your employer?'

'The fact is, that the Artemis Foundation is not all it seems to be. In fact-'

Lara threw herself back, as a bolt of lightning flashed down towards Azucena's gun. He dropped it, spasming as white light crackled all over him, earthing itself in a split second. He lay still.

Lara crawled over to him, feeling the sticky atmosphere of the static electricity as it buzzed in the air. She waited for the charge in the air to settle, and then looked into Azucena's face.

The only animated part of him was his eyes. They rolled in their sockets, crazily.

Lara pulled off the satchel he wore, slinging it over her shoulder.

'I'm afraid that it is I who will be extending my tour,' she lifted her gun 'and now, to put you out of your misery.'

She landed a shot between his eyes, into the brain cavity. The eyes stopped, staring at the wet ground.

Lara walked towards the fortress gate. Some wolves were already sniffing around, watching her warily. She loosed off a few shots, and holstered her guns.

'I hope you like your meat well done,' she said to their retreating backs.


	20. An Advantage Gained

The Pyramid of Tlaloc, Tlacocaxa, San Luis Potosi, Mexico

Lara reached the base of the pyramid, and vaulted up onto the shallow ledge that ran around the building. Holes in the stonework were everywhere, a combination of the elements and the Spanish demolition teams centuries ago.

One of the large stone staircases was still largely intact. Lara started up it, going carefully. The steps were still wet from the storm, although it was content only to thunder for the moment. But slipping on this steep staircase could spell injury, or worse.

_There have been too many accidents today _Lara thought to herself.

Gusts pounded around her, so that she had to lean forward in order to stop herself tumbling backwards into the yawning void below. From here, it was an even better, more dramatic view than in her vision: plumes of smoke roiled from fires in the deserted city; the setting sun gave the clouds an angry red and orange tint and below her, the wolves raced in circles, angry, afraid and confused.

'Like a vision of hell,' she said aloud. The thought chilled her. The sooner she was inside the pyramid, the better.

She reached the small stone pavilion at the top. The walls were free of moss, but wind and rain had taken their toll on the elaborate carvings. Lara looked at them quickly, but gave up – that was one disadvantage of having Azucena dead, she couldn't make head or tail of Nahautl.

There was no way in, however. Only a carved trapdoor stood in the centre of the floor. Lara stepped on it, but nothing happened. The trapdoor was intricately carved, and represented a human figure. A child.

Lara activated her PLS, as it was growing dark. White light flooded the stone floor. The carving glared up at Lara, edges of black and grey against the white.

Lara tried to recall her Aztec mythology. Tlalocaxa would have been a synonym for one of the Upper Worlds of Aztec mythology, Tlalocan. Tlalocan was an eternal garden of flowers and fruit, as Tlaloc himself was a fertility and rain god.

But the worship of Tlaloc came with a heavy price. As with many other Aztec gods, he was appeased by sacrifice.

The sacrifice of children.

Lara looked out over the city again. The rain was falling faster now, and lightning crackled. The red-orange of the sun had almost disappeared behind the black clouds. Surely it wasn't possible. Surely this storm wasn't the anger of Tlaloc?

_No, don't even think of the possibility_, she chided herself. Magic was one thing, but the centuries-old anger of forgotten gods was another. Concentrate on getting into the pyramid.

Now, what else was sacrificed to Tlaloc? Tears? The tears of innocents. Well, she was a bit short on children's tears at the moment. Better think of something else.

Her foot connected with something in a corner of the pavilion. She stooped to pick it up. A ceremonial bowl, with motifs of water and faces. She turned again towards the trapdoor. The light from her PLS revealed a shallow dip in the carving. Carefully, Lara placed the bowl into its receptacle.

On hidden machinery, the trapdoor slid into the floor, revealing a ladder carved into a shaft, going down into deep blackness. Lara stepped onto it, and carefully climbed down into the heart of the pyramid.

She felt solid ground beneath her foot, as she put it down, searching for the next rung. She hopped off the ladder, and looked around.

This was some sort of antechamber, and the carvings here were much sharper and more detailed than up above. Then again, these had not seen the light of day for centuries.

She walked through the only door, down a corridor. She was ever aware for traps, but in a temple that was used every day, it was unlikely that there would be any. Then again, ancient civilisations were not averse to testing their faithful.

The corridor opened out into a large central chamber, with a set of four altars on a dais in the middle. Three other doors led off the room, set, Lara noticed by looking at her compass, at the cardinal points of North, South, East and West. Each door was flanked by two staircases that lead down to the floor. Holes in the ceiling and the wall showed nothing outside, apart from the odd flash of lightning.

Lara went down the staircase, listening intently. From here, the thunder was little more than a low background rumbling, distant, but on the edge of hearing. The wind whistled through the empty corridors, but after years of tomb raiding she was used to it.

But, like in so many others, she sometimes imagined (or did she?) that the echoes of the human life in the places that she visited, lingered on long after their occupants had died.

Now, she thought her ears caught strains of chanting, whispering, running feet and praying. The echoes were caught and thrown about by the walls of the pyramid, reverberating through the air. Something flashed at the corner of her eye, disappearing into the still air as she turned to look. A small echoing sound, like a laughing child, began to appear in the empty air, overlaying all the others.

'Hello?' said Lara, and then checked herself. Ghosts, in her experience, existed, but were rarely in a conversational mood. She turned back towards one of the doors. She stepped carefully towards the dark corridor, turning on her PLS again. The narrow space seemed also to be devoid of traps, and lead to what seemed to be another small antechamber. A large sarcophagus sat on a dais, uncarved and roughly made. There were tokens on the lid, feathers tied with grass, a shaman's rattle, a pendant of Quetzalcoatl and in the middle, a diagram made inaccurately with small sticks and desiccated flowers.

Lara looked at it for a minute, thinking. Then she put both hands on the lid, and slid it across to reveal the inside of the sarcophagus.

Inside was a woman. She was Aztec, presumably, and quite young, with small, childish features and wearing a rough gown decorated with flowers and colourful pieces of wool.

Her eyes snapped open. Lara jumped back bringing up her pistols to cover herself. The woman sat up quickly, dust falling from her clothes.

She said a string of incomprehensible words, but Lara shook her head in response. Then the woman tried Spanish.

'Who are you? What are you doing here?'

Lara started. The sudden realisation that this woman had been lying in a coffin, in a deserted temple finally got through to her. She looked closely at the woman, who was watching her defiantly.

'My name is Lara Croft. Who are you? And why are you in a sarcophagus?'

'My name is Donna Xitemec. I am the Spaniards interpreter.'

'The Spaniards…the ones with the staff? Nearly five hundred years ago?' Lara looked incredulous.

'Their stick? What do you know about that! That is what brought the curse of Tlaloc upon us! Do not look for it! It is a dangerous weapon!'

'What curse? And how can you still be alive?'

'Aie! It was the Spaniards fault. They angered Tlaloc by demolishing the pyramid! The storms began. They caused mudslides, which blocked off all the routes out of the city. The common people made ready for the inevitable, but the Spaniards butchered the faithful as they prayed in the streets. Some managed to escape on horseback…with their accursed stick.'

'Where?'

'I know not…oh but who are you? Foolish woman, do you not know of the anger of Tlaloc. Listen, he rages outside.'

'I told you, I am Lara Croft. Now, how can you still be alive?'

'Alas, the local people brought me to shelter inside the pyramid. No sooner had we entered this place, than lightning collapsed the entrance. A priest said that we must make a sacrifice, and as I was known the Spaniards, they picked me.'

'Then…you are not alive?'

The woman bowed her head 'No. I am the guardian of the pyramid. I watch over this place for all eternity, for my wickedness and betrayal of my people. And they taunt me so!'

Lara holstered her pistols 'Who taunt you?'

The woman turned a baleful gaze upon her 'The children of Tlaloc. The sacrifices that were made in his name. This is where they play forever, the innocent souls of our infants.'

Lara heard the whispering grow louder behind her. Fearing to look behind her, she concentrated on the woman who now looked sightlessly past her towards the doorway.

'And the staff. Where did they take it?'

'I heard mention of the coast. And from there, to Santo Domingo, beyond the roaring seas.'

Lara stepped back, watching her 'The children. Are they here?'

Xitemec looked at her hopelessly 'They are always here. Watching. And waiting. And praying. But to the pure, they are not malevolent.'

Lara turned.

Shades of children, misty and indistinct, crowded in the doorway, staring at her. One opened his translucent mouth, and said something faint and whispering.

Lara looked at Xitemec.

'He asked if you were staying here.'

'Tell him, no. But give him my apologies for the disturbance.'

Xitemec spoke directly to the boy, and he motioned to the others to make a path through the ghostly bodies.

Lara looked back at Xitemec, and the woman watched her sadly.

'Go. Tell no one of us, the last of a dead race. We are but memory, while I can see that you mean to seek out the Spanish stick. Remember us kindly, Lara Croft. Remember these children.'

Lara nodded, and turned back towards the narrow stone corridor. The pale children shrank from her, as if the warmth of her body was like a hot flame to them. Their eyes, wet with ghostly tears, shone in the dim light. Each had a scar, barely discernible, upon their chests, over where their heart would have been.

Lara left the children behind, and climbed again to the top of the pyramid. As she reached the top, she looked out over the city.

The sun was setting in full, glorious colour. The storm had passed, and now the sun was light in bright shades of orange and gold. She made her way carefully down the drying flanks of the pyramid, making sure that every step was carefully placed, to prevent an accident.

The wolves had skulked off the streets, back to their lairs. Some fires smoked peacefully, no longer threatening, but now gentle. The ashy taste of burning brushwood delighted her senses.

Lara stepped off the base of the pyramid, and looked back up to the top, where the stone pavilion stood, glowing in the evening light.

Lara was not religious; despite having been baptised into the Anglican Church and attending services every Sunday with her family. The sight of the pyramid, and the souls within, however, prompted her to say a small prayer for them.

When she had finished, she laid the crucifix that she had found at the bottom of the staircase, the side with the carving face up, to catch the light.

She shook herself. The sun was slowly sinking beneath the horizon. Time to move back to Puerta Sagrada. Developments were in progress; and she now had an advantage over Elena Escarelli, and the shadowy Artemis Foundation.


	21. The Disagreeable Truth

La Puerta Sagrada, San Luis Potosi, Mexico

Night had fallen by the time Lara drove back into the town. Some people came out of the town hall, and called her over. Lara switched off the engine, and climbed out. The men lead her inside, where Marika and Escarelli still sat over the laptop. Wrasse lay on a fold-out cot some way away, his leg in a brace.

Marika stood up and greeted her friend 'We knew you couldn't be much longer. But you're wet through! We should get you some dry clothes.' She shot a glance at the men, and one of them hurried off.

Lara crossed over to Wrasse 'How are you feeling?'

'Better thanks, but my leg is still quite tender. The doctor says I've pulled a few muscles as well. Where's Azucena?'

Lara smoothed his pillow 'I'm afraid Azucena didn't make it. What happened to him after I left you?'

'He stayed with me until the helicopter came, and said that he had decided to look for you. He went off up the trail, and that's the last I saw of him.'

'I expect he fell down a crevasse or something. It was treacherous going. Lots of near falls. And he wasn't a young man.' Lara said, hoping to move away from the subject.

'Yes, but he was a professional guide...'

Wrasse saw the expression on Lara's face, and decided that now was not the time for discussion about the untimely end of Senor Azucena. The men returned with some clean clothes, and Lara went into a small office to change. When she emerged, the others were crowding around the computer equipment that Marika had rigged up.

'So, what did you find?' she said, typing busily.

Lara sighed under her breath. In order to make full use of the information she had gained, she would have to tell them about the events, including Azucena's death.

'I haven't been entirely truthful. About what happened in Tlalocaxa…' she began.


	22. Author's Note

Well, that's it! Rather than continue on and on with this (seemingly) epic story in one part, I have decided to split it into two or three. This seems to make sense to me, and I hope it is the right decision.

I very much hope also that anyone who has read this has enjoyed it, and may continue to enjoy the sequel parts when I get around to writing them. Once again, my apologies for very erratic updates.

I would like to thank several websites for the information and ideas that I gained from them.

Wikipedia

Hotelclub

Epicurious

Google Earth

lescathares.free.fr (extremely helpful!)

And any others – I know there were more, but I can't remember or find them. So they get an anonymous mention. (Sorry.)

Thanks for reading, and look out for the sequel!


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